


astraphobia

by kamisado



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Meteorstuck, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 18:42:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7585690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamisado/pseuds/kamisado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>astraphobia. noun. the abnormal fear of thunder and lightning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	astraphobia

 

 -- carcinoGeneticist [CG]  began trolling  turntechGodhead [TG] \--

CG: DAVE  
CG: WAKE THE FUCK UP  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT NOISE?  
CG: DON'T PRETEND YOU DIDN'T HEAR IT YOU ARE LITERALLY THREE ROOMS AWAY  
TG: dude its 3am i was sleeping  
TG: like literally everyone else on this meteor  
TG: go to bed  
CG: THERE IT IS AGAIN

This time Dave hears the noise, a low rumbling powerful enough to send a tremor through his whole body where he lay, tangled in bedsheets, on his shitty alchemised mattress on the floor. _That ain’t good._   It's not immediately obvious whether it's coming from inside or outside the hunk of space rock that they currently called home, and Dave can't help but sneak a look up at the overhead vent in case this has something to do with the murderous purple-bonered Bigfoot wandering about the place.

CG: WE ARE SO INCREDIBLY FUCKED  
TG: yeah i heard it then  
TG: i got nothing  
TG: ill ask rose she usually knows about this kind of shit

\--  turntechGodhead [TG] ceased being trolled by carcinoGeneticist [CG]  \-- 

Another low rumble shakes the room, this one louder and closer than the first. Dave hoists himself out of bed, sleepily and haphazardly pulling on clothes as he talks to Rose through his shades. _It's probably nothing_ , he tells himself, _but after everythin that's happened in this stupid fuckin game, who knows._ He forces himself to stay calm, and think rationally about what these noises could be. They sound familiar in a weird kinda way.

 --  turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \-- 

TG: rose  
TG: what the fuck is going on  
TG: i know youre awake you always have the lowdown when shit like this is going down  
TT: Dave, it's three in the morning.  
TT: Luckily for you, I was already awake because of the storm.  
TG: wait what  
TT: Maybe you'd be better off asking Vriska or Terezi for the details, I think they're on the roof.  
TG: no thanks  
TG: me and terezi arent really speaking  
TG: and id rather eat my own beautiful beautiful shades before asking vriska anything  
TG: you think its a storm?  
TT: As far as Kanaya and I know, it seems to be a small solar flare-up from a passing star.  
TT: It shouldn't really have much more of an impact on us than just a regular Earth thunderstorm would.

At that, Dave flops down onto his mattress to lace up his shoes. He lets out a quiet exhale as the room shudders loudly with the space-thunder, posters coming untacked from the walls, silently relieved they're not under attack.

TG: cool i can deal with thunderstorms  
TG: we used to get fuckloads when i was a kid  
TG: im gonna go check on karkat i dont think hes taking it too well  
TT: Ok.  
TT: I'll keep you updated if anything changes.  
TG: thanks

\--  turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \-- 

The persistent rumbling hasn't receded any by the time Dave reaches Karkat's door, and he tries to figure out what the best course of action would be. Ordinarily, he would have just gone straight back to bed. Strifing's one thing to make a guy jump out of bed, adrenaline flowing and ready for battle, but thunderstorms were a frequent thing in Houston, and Dave had learned to tune them out even asleep.

"Dude, are you okay?" Dave calls out, after a couple gentle knocks on the door elicit nothing.

"Go the fuck away, Strider," comes the eventual response, a lot less aggressive and more sniffley than Dave was expecting. Usually this would be Dave's cue to roll his eyes and slope off back to his room, but he knows how shitty it feels to be alone when you're terrified out of your wits, and he finds himself slowly pushing open the door to Karkat's room.

The light’s on, a single hanging bulb in the middle of the room, but the storm's making it dim and surge intermittently. In the corner of the room, on a pile of soft plushies, ratty cushions and what looks like bicycle horns, Karkat is huddled up with his arms around his knees, staring transfixed on the flickering light.

"I told you to fuck off!" he shouts, a little more like his usual self, as Dave pokes his head round the door. But Dave can see pale red tear tracks against Karkat's grey skin so he bursts in the door with a little more bravado than necessary and throws himself down onto the pile next to Karkat.

"C'mon dude, staring at that all night's not gonna help you sleep any better." Karkat turns to look at him, expression melting from fear into annoyance. "Although I'm not entirely sure this – ouch – this metal bike horn is gonna help either."

 Karkat immediately shoves him out and Dave lands on the hard metal floor with an _oof!_

"Don't disrespect the pile, bulgemunch," Karkat says huffily, looking back up at the light as it sways and dims. The room shudders with another rumble of space-thunder, matched with a flickering of the lights. Trying to remain casual and surreptitious, Dave registers how Karkat tenses, how he grabs a cushion from the pile and clutches it so tightly if it were human its eyes would be bulging. Dave crosses his legs, leans back on his hands, attempting to exude confidence and reminding himself it's just like a regular ol' Earth thunderstorm and not a black hole eating them or some other shit.

"Rose says it's nothing to worry about," Dave says, trying to placate Karkat with well-practised stoicism, staring at the swinging light too. It's kind of mesmerizing now he's actually looking at it. "We get- got storms like this all the time on Earth, no big deal. As long as you're not standing outside. Actually, that reminds me; apparently Vriska and Terezi are on the roof. Like, that is 100% a bad idea, why the fuck would you stand on the roof of a tall building in a thunderstorm when you have a metal arm? Although the idea of Vriska getting struck by lightning is kinda pleasing when you think about it..." Dave knows he's waffling, but Karkat's no longer staring at the light and instead looking confusedly at Dave, still clutching the cushion.

"What the fuck is lightning?" he asks, his voice at once confused, angry and frightened. Dave wracks his brain for a non-threatening way of describing it but comes up empty.

"It's, uh, kind of like electricity coming from the sky all at once. It can kinda fuck you up if it hits you." Karkat stares down at him from his perch on the pile a bit longer before tossing the cushion at Dave’s head. Fortunately for Dave, it goes sailing past about two feet to the left of Karkat’s desired target.

“They’re skybolts dumbass, we had those on Alternia too.” Dave genuinely considers getting up and going to join Vriska on the roof and/or flying directly into the solar storm. But before he can come up with a snappy retort, there’s a bright flash through the tiny window high up in the wall. Karkat flinches violently.

"Yeah, but they can’t get you when you’re inside?” Dave hopes the sarcasm in his voice doesn't sound as forced as it feels, not to mention betraying how stupid _he_ feels, but Karkat seems to relax a little at the idea of the storm staying well and truly outside of the flying space rock they call home for now.

"I guess Vriska getting hit by a skybolt _is_ kind of funny," Karkat says, almost wistfully, and Dave is delighted when a small giggle passes his lips.

"Yeah, like do you think someone should tell her that this is the worst idea since they decided to make a fourth Jaws movie. Although now I'm imagining Vriska getting eaten by a shark, so maybe not."

"I have no fucking clue what that means, but she probably deserves it," Karkat replies, genuinely laughing now. Dave feels quite proud of himself really, watching Karkat laugh so openly, unguarded, and doesn't realize he's staring.

He’s about to get up, maybe to say something, maybe to leave, when the lights blow.

" _We're going to fucking die!"_ Karkat shrieks. There's a desperate scrabbling in the plushy-cushion-horn pile next to Dave as Karkat burrows down, complete with sinister honking noises as the bike horns are pressed. _Fucking Gamzee_ , Dave thinks, pulling himself carefully to his feet and trying not to do too much damage in the dark.

"Karkat, we're not gonna die, the power's gone off," Dave says, both proud and disgusted at how much like Rose he sounds right now. "The storm probably just shook the generator loose. Let's go to the kitchen and alchemise some candles and shit. It's gonna be fine."

He gently feels around in the pile, praying that he doesn't accidentally cop a feel, _that's_ _definitely not gonna help right about now_ , and makes contact with a warm sweater-clad arm. Karkat makes another ungodly screech, flailing wildly, but Dave holds onto the one piece of Karkat he can find, placating him.

"Shhhh, c'mon man, it's gonna be okay.” The flailing slows to a stop. Dave takes it as a signal to keep talking. “I used to be completely shit-scared of thunderstorms when I was a kid. I'd wake up in the middle of the night completely frozen, listening as the windows shook like they were gonna drop out and lightning hit all the apartment blocks nearby. And I was on the top floor, y'know, so I was fucking terrified that if it struck me I'd be completely boned."

"But skybolts can’t get you inside," Karkat mumbled from somewhere in the pile, not pulling away from Dave.

"Yeah, somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that, but I was fucking scared anyway.” He can feel Karkat shivering through the pile; Dave tries to move some of the plushies away from where he thinks Karkat's head is, _can he even breathe in there?_ “Even the one time it struck my building and blew all the sockets out the walls, and cracked all the mirrors, y'know what?"

"What," Karkat mumbles flatly, shifting around despondently.

"I was _fine._ The worst possible thing I could think of happened, and I was fine. And this is gonna be fine too, just you see." Dave braces himself for some angry retort, even _he_ thought he was approaching new heady heights of insincerity, but instead Karkat just pulls himself into a sitting position, and gropes blindly for Dave’s arm. Dave feels his face flush; he's suddenly grateful for the dark.

“Let’s go make some fucking candles,” grumbles Karkat as he drags himself shakily to his feet, still clutching onto Dave’s arm tightly, as if he would disappear into the void of space if he let go.

*

Even though, thanks to Rose, Vriska didn't get struck by lightning, and even though the alchemiter would only make pale peach candles that vaguely smelt like floral toilet cleaner, Dave thinks this is one of the better thunderstorms he's had. Rose and Kanaya are tucked up together on one sofa, having wandered down to see if Karkat was being brutally murdered or just throwing another tantrum, and instead wound up cuddling together on the sofa, fast asleep. In the dim candle glow, Dave can see a little smile on Rose's face as she sleeps, and he can't help smiling back. He’s rarely seen Rose this relaxed, this at ease with herself.

This game has destroyed so much, but it's given them so much too.

Karkat's sleeping too, head tipped back on the other sofa and snoring gently. Dave's sat next to him, tempted to just call it a night and pass out right there too. If days actually meant anything here it would be fast approaching dawn, but he figures that somebody oughta stay up and keep an eye on all these naked flames littering the room. The storm has almost passed completely, but each distant rumble still makes Karkat flinch gently and frown deeply.

Without thinking too hard about it, Dave uncrumples his cape from underneath him and spreads across Karkat’s sleeping form. Almost immediately the worry in his face melts away. With a little smile still on his face, Dave cracks open his notebook ready to churn out the newest sick rhymes floating around in his head, waiting to be crafted into something.

He’s halfway through a line when he feels something warm shuffle at his side. Almost instinctively, he freezes then relaxes all in the same breath, his shitty red biro covered in bitemarks stuttering on the paper. Karkat's head pressed against his shoulder; his spikes of dark hair tickle Dave's face.

For the first time in fifteen and a half years, Dave feels at home.


End file.
